An Accidental Date with a Billionaire

“You’re not understanding.” She fisted her hands. “I couldn’t fall in love with someone who would put me in that position. It’s not me. It’s not who I want to be. I don’t want to be like them. And falling in love with someone wealthy…what if that changed me back to who I was? What if it made me forget what’s important in life—the sun, the fresh air, the way the dew hits the petals of a rose in spring—and I started caring about the latest fashions, designs, and trends? What if I lost myself?”

He tightened his grip on her. Her hand was fisted so tightly under his that she would probably have permanent nail marks etched in her palms. “What if you stayed the same? What if you made him a better person, too? Don’t you think that’s a possibility?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I’m not sure I’m willing to find out for something I’m not even sure I believe in.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re talking about believing in the power of love and ignoring everything you know about yourself in the hopes that it would be enough to save you. I don’t really buy into that whole thing, ya know? I don’t really believe in love saving a soul from going bad.”

Well, neither did he.

She pulled free of his touch, letting out a small laugh. “Enough serious talk?”

“Hell yes,” he gratefully replied. “Let’s talk about anything else. Birds. Dogs. Cats. The weather.”

Laughing for real now, she pushed her hair behind her ear. She always did that when she was nervous—either that or biting her lower lip. “I know the perfect topic.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in, smiling. “What is it?”

“You owe me two questions.”

She was right. He’d asked follow-up questions to his one allotted one. “All right. Fair enough. Shoot.”

“Did your mom ever remarry?”

Damn, she’d had that one loaded, aimed, and ready to fire. “No.

My mom didn’t even date. I think she never got over losing my dad. There were never any men around.” He picked up his hot chocolate, curling his hands around the mug. “To this day she has no interest in finding someone to spend her life with, no matter how many times I tell her she should. I don’t want her to be lonely.”

She picked up her drink, too, inhaling the scent. “Why would she be lonely?”

“I don’t know, I work a lot. Don’t get over there as much as I’d like.”

Nodding, she sipped her drink.

“That was one.” He leaned back. “Next?”

“What jobs did your mom work?”

He teased, “I should have asked that one. I want to know what your parents do.”

A hint of discomfort touched her expression before she chased it away with a flat, complacent smile. “Another question for another time, maybe.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “She did anything she could. Waitressing, receptionist, clerk, fast food.” He moved his mug out of the way because the waiter approached with their food. Breakfast for dinner. Who the hell did shit like that? Oh, right. Sam.

“When I went to college, she got a job as a custodian there so I could get free tuition. I only had to pay for room and board—which is when I got that construction job I told you about and lied to her about getting a scholarship that covered those fees. She did everything she could for me and my sister to succeed, and now I do everything I can to make her comfortable without her having to lift a damn finger to take care of anyone else ever again.”

Her beautiful eyes showed all her thoughts. She was so unbelievably expressive, while somehow managing to be one of the most closed-off people he’d ever known. “Some people might say that makes you a pretty amazing person, too.”

“I say it makes me a person who repays his debts, and nothing more.”

She clucked her tongue. “Whatever.”

The waiter gave them their plates. His footsteps echoed on the white and black checkered tiled floor. The walls were covered in the same patterned tile, which became disorienting after a while.

She cleared her throat. “I’m going to ask another question. How and when did your dad die?”

The family of four walked down the sidewalk in front of the window. The father held on to the little girl’s hand, and the boy held on to his mother. They seemed so happy. So…normal. Would he ever have that? Shit, did he want to have that someday?